The high-and-mighty sector of baseball has its chance to speak once again.

And once again its unfair criticisms, judgments and conclusions will be completely wrong as they are shouted down from a perch that supposedly supports the incredibly perfect.

In the eyes of most of that electorate, people like Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens and Sammy Sosa are the imperfect. They are players so flawed in character that the overwhelming majority of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America voters, which released its 2013 Hall of Fame ballot Wednesday, believes history should forget their greatest accomplishments.

The ballot for the potential 2013 inductees includes Bonds, Clemens and Sosa, as well as other first-timers like Mike Piazza and Craig Biggio, and holdovers like Mark McGwire, Rafael Palmeiro and Jeff Bagwell.

We don’t need a Nate Silver algorithm to predict the result of this vote. The past few votes have told us that players like the ones listed here—those who have tested positive or are suspected of using performance-enhancing drugs—won’t receive the 75 percent of the vote necessary for induction. Getting just 20 percent of the vote can be considered a positive for players like McGwire, whose percentage has dropped from 23.5 percent in his first year of eligibility (2007) to 19.5 in 2012.

Disclaimer: I don’t yet have a vote. But many voters, who must have 10 consecutive years of membership in the BBWAA to be eligible to vote for the Hall of Fame, have made their intentions known: If you used or are suspected of having used a PED—looking at you, Bagwell and maybe even Biggio—the voters will be cruel.

That message has gotten across loud and clear. But this year is different with Bonds and Clemens, two of the most decorated and worthy players ever to appear on the ballot. If they don’t get in on the first vote, the voters will have spoken more loudly—and more incorrectly—than ever.

Now is the time for some voters to come down from that idealistic high horse and recognize what the building at 25 Main Street in Cooperstown, N.Y., actually represents. It houses the game’s history and its greatest players, regardless of when they played or how they achieved their accomplishments.

It is time to stop acting like history didn’t happen from the late 1980s to the early 2000s. Otherwise, in 20 years we might have a Hall of Fame that completely ignores what has been labeled the “Steroids Era” unless you’re named Derek Jeter*.

(*I could go on about how no player, not even The Captain, should be above suspicion of PED use. Also, wasn’t he supposed to be “washed up” a couple of seasons ago? Hmmm … Anyway…)

It is wrong, not to mention stupid, to ignore an entire chunk of the sport’s history. And if you are going to ignore an entire era of baseball, there are ones more deserving of rejection than the one during which PEDs supposedly ran more rampant than in any other.

How about era when minorities weren’t allowed to compete? That era was much more unjust and competitively unfair than one in which players injected steroids or took human growth hormones or synthetic testosterone. Yet we celebrate players from that previous time of segregation, some of them openly racist, as if they are pillars of the baseball world—looking at you, Rogers Hornsby, Ty Cobb and John McGraw.

It isn’t only those players who had integrity issues. From the start of the sport until today, guys have been cited for drunk driving, domestic violence or marital infidelity. Others neglected their kids or were deadbeat dads or snorted a line of cocaine here and there.

Where is the integrity in those acts?

The integrity test should extend beyond the foul lines and clubhouse bathroom stalls. And if it doesn’t, what about guys like Gaylord Perry who doctored the baseball to get an unfair advantage on the mound?

Beyond integrity and into the medicinal arena, what about Tommy John surgery? After all, it really is nothing more than a medical advancement—just as HGH or synthetic testosterone are today*.

(*—The Tommy John argument seemed silly to me when I first heard it, but think about it for a while and it isn’t so ridiculous.)

You want to scream about prescriptions for those latter drugs? Fine. Then defend greenies, which were amphetamines or speed that players popped like Skittles for decades until the mid-2000s and are illegal without a prescription. That drug was as much a part of baseball as beer and screaming at umpires.

For every argument the voters can spew against Bonds, Clemens or Sosa, there is a counter-argument that should shut them up, although it surely won’t.

As is the case with anything that has a rich and long history, baseball has points of prosperity and points of regret. But that regret should be shared. Players, coaches, team executives, commissioner Bud Selig and the media should share regret and blame for that era. They all were responsible to one degree or another for perpetuating the drug culture within the game.

But that is only if you want to be up in arms about the entire situation. By this point, we shouldn’t be.

Baseball is a game. Granted, it is one that holds a place deep in the hearts of many people in this country and several other countries around the world. But at the end of the day it is still just sport. It is entertainment no different than a movie, play or reality television program because it delivers the conflict and drama that we crave.

Yet we don’t get upset when an actress gets breast-enhancement surgery or injects her lips with a substance to make them fuller, or when an actor dyes his hair or has a facelift. They do those things because their looks are what keep them relevant in their business.

With the exception of baseball players’ physical prowess keeping them relevant, those who have taken PEDs are no different that those other entertainers trying to maintain their livelihood. If you think ballplayers are different, you are fooling yourself into believing they are nobler than the rest of the population, or that baseball is more dignified than other forms of show business.

It isn’t.

Because baseball is filled with humans who have the drive to succeed, every possible edge will be explored now and forever. Whether you are 16 or 60, there is a fair chance your favorite player did something illegal to enhance his performance on the field.

Willie Mays and Willie Stargell are both connected to greenies, and two of the National League’s best hitters this past season recently were busted: Melky Cabrera for synthetic testosterone and Carlos Ruiz for amphetamines.

It happened then, it happens now.

So forget the “Steroids Era.” Baseball has had an era of drug use dating back at least 50 years, meaning more statistics than most are willing to admit are tainted in some way. But suddenly society wants to hold players accountable for using PEDs if they played from the mid-80s through the mid-2000s, as if it is a recent phenomenon that spiked the precious home run totals into the realm of video games.

Please (complete with an eye roll).

The point has been made: Players like Bonds, Clemens, Sosa, McGwire and Piazza don’t have the love of certain writers. Fine. Initially, I felt the same way about doping. But time, reflection and better research have prevailed. So let’s drop it.